What Is, What Was and What Might Have Been
by Musings of a Shaken Mind
Summary: There was only one song that he would not play. A song he had not played in… four years. To the day. AH, AU. Incomplete.


**I know I have drabbles to write-- I'm a terrible person. But this has been bugging me for weeks. It's about bloody time I wrote the damn piece. Alright? I'll do the drabbles... soon. I hope. For now, enjoy!**

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**What Is, what Was and what Might Have Been  
A **_**Twilight**_** FanFiction  
****By Musings of a Shaken Mind  
For Valentine's Day 2009

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****_What Is.

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_**

He pressed the familiar keys, hearing the melody totally surround him, letting it cleanse him and fill him, until he forgot the world around him, lost in his music. His oddly coloured, bronze head was bent low over the dark mahogany of the instrument, focussed as he was on the sound he produced. His eyes closed, pale lids hiding green eyes, as the music continued to surge forth around him. It was times like this that he lived for, the utter joy and peace that his compositions brought him. The gentle sound was mere background noise to those around him, but to him, it was all he could hear.

Oh, he loved his music.

His slim fingers came gently, unwillingly to a halt as the piece finished, and he paused for a moment, before becoming once more entranced by his music. It was easier to lose himself in his work than it was to live in reality, because he loved what he did. He always had, ever since he had started to play, at the age of five. He had been determined, despite his age, and that had sustained him until now.

There was only one song that he would not play. A song he had not played in… four years. To the day.

It was a lullaby, of sorts, homage to the one who had inspired it. Almost unconsciously, the tune he was playing altered, changed, until the notes were painfully familiar. For a moment, he allowed it, allowing himself to drift along in memories of happier times, with _her. _

In his pocket, sat a box. It was black and velvet and lovely, but it paled n comparison to the diamond set upon the ring that lay inside. It had not been particularly expensive, or particularly unique, but he had been a student at the time, and it had been worth several months' worth of luxuries. He had not regretted it at the time, and he still did not, even though the ring would never reach her finger now. He had carried it with him for four years.

He remembers the day they'd met. It had been in High School; she had been young and innocent, and he had been jaded and depressed following the deaths of his parents. But she had helped him see the light. She had made life bearable, even happy for him. She was his guardian angel.

They had grown up together. There had been arguments, of course—they had been so young. But he barely remembered them now. They had been replaced with only happy thoughts of her and him.

No one had been surprised when he had asked his adoptive parents what they thought about marriage. Everyone had been so happy, not least his two older siblings, Alice and Emmett, who were already married to Jasper and Rosalie Hale respectively. They had been waiting for him to pop the question; apparently, Jasper and Emmett had taken bets on how long it would take him.

He'd had done it right, too. He'd gone to her father—though Charlie had never liked Edward particularly—and asked for Charlie's daughter's hand. He remembers that moment like it was yesterday.

_He was so nervous. Why was he this nervous? He hadn't been this scared when he'd graduated, or applied to Law School, or anything._

_He supposed that the short answer was Bella meant more to him than any of those things. Far more._

_He knocked on the door, running a hand through his hair. He knew Bella wasn't home—in fact, he'd just dropped her off at her classes before driving up here. He'd chosen today, because Bella was in class and he wasn't. It made sense._

_It seemed like an eternity before Charlie Swan opened the door. He didn't seem too surprised to see Edward there, just resigned._

"_Good afternoon, Chief Swan."_

"_I shoulda known this was coming, huh? Well, you'd better come in, Edward."_

_He had held open the door, and Edward had stepped inside. He wasn't any less nervous._

_They went through to the front room. Charlie settled on the sofa, motioning for Edward to take the solitary armchair._

"_Chief Swan, I—"_

"_It's Charlie, kid."_

"_I… uh, right. Charlie, I love Bella very much. I swear to you that I'll look after her for the rest of our lives… I couldn't imagine the rest of mine without her, but I wanted to do this right. I'd like to ask permission to take your daughter's hand in marriage."_

_Charlie sat back, sighing heavily as he leaned against the plush back of the faded sofa, appraising Edward._

"_Like I said, I saw this coming, but it hardly makes it any easier. I know I've… not exactly been fair to you, Edward. I know you love her, I've seen you too together. I'd have to be a fool to have missed that."_

_There was silence between them for a moment._

"_One condition. If you hurt her, Cullen, I will kill you. Got that?"_

_Edward nodded fervently, wondering if Charlie Swan would have time to reach him before he hurt himself in penance for causing pain to an angel._

"_I understand, Charlie."_

"_Then you have my permission."_

The images in his head faded, as his mind returned to the sheet of music in front of him. Clair de Lune. He made the transition smoothly from Bella's lullaby to the classic. It had always been a favourite of theirs.

The notes surrounded him, each one a memory that was extremely precious to him. He wanted to hold onto the music forever.

He had worked here for so long that he never noticed the coming and going of customers, any more. The cold draft that nipped at his neck whenever the door opened hardly even bothered him any more. He had come to ignore the people that passed him by, day after day.

That was, until now.

The door opened, and he felt the familiar icy gust before the door was slammed shut once more. He had never turned before, but something made him turn, now.

It was she. _Her. _And on the arm of a tall stranger, too. She was more beautiful than he remembered, if that was even possible. Her dark hair was longer now, and curled slightly for the evening. Her brown eyes sparkled like they had when she had smiled at him, and the beautiful smile on her face sent a crippling wave of jealousy through him.

That might have been him, there. On her arm. Talking with her, and making her laugh in that carefree way. His feelings towards her had not changed, not even a tiny bit. The accident that had held him up frustrated him no end; if he ever found the driver of that car, he would undoubtedly kill them. It was not fair. It had not been fair, not to him. To arrive—finally—after deserting his car and running to the church, only to realise that she was gone.

In fairness to her, he had been an hour and a half late to his own wedding.

He had tried to explain. He had. But she had never listened, never wanted to listen to his excuses. He was sorry. So, so sorry… but that had never been enough. He had always known that he had never been good enough for her but, selfishly, he had held onto her. And he had loved her so much.

That night, after his sister had come back to the apartment to fetch Bella's things, she had ignored him, too. She was Bella's best friend—they were practically sisters. And Alice had not spoken to Edward since that fateful day. Jasper and Emmett, too, had been murderously angry—though they had calmed down once he had told the story. Rosalie sided with Alice and Bella.

And that had split all of them. Rosalie and Emmett, once so in love, had filed for a divorce. Alice had left Jasper soon afterwards, claiming that she needed space.

And everything had crumpled from there. He knew they blamed him, though they had never voiced their opinions. His adoptive parents, at least, had not abandoned him, though they had been deeply disappointed in him.

He hadn't seen them in so long.

He had ended up in New York City after a year of travelling (or running away, perhaps). He had abandoned his studies, and taken up a stupid job in this stupid restaurant. Now, this was all he had.

He wanted to call out to her, but she was too wrapped up in the man's conversation, practically hanging off of every word he said. The blue dress she wore was exactly the colour that Edward's sister had picked out for her and Rosalie as bridesmaids, at that disastrous wedding. She looked lovely, as ever. But most of all, she looked happy.

And that was what decided him. Hadn't he intruded upon her life enough? Didn't she deserve happiness, after what he had done to her?

He kept on playing. The notes embraced him once more, but he did not allow himself to be swept away. For if he were swept away, with his ex-fiancée in the room, the notes that he produced would undoubtedly turn to those familiar ones of her lullaby. He wondered briefly if she would remember…

"_What's wrong?"_

"_I'm feeling extremely insignificant"_

_The music slowed, transforming into something softer, the melody of the lullaby woven through the profusion of notes._

"_You inspired this one."  
_

The notes told a story. They were intrinsic in their life together, during high school and after it. If it were possible to capture Bella on a page, in musical score, he always liked to think that her lullaby would be something close to the end result.

They were seated now in the corner booth. The stranger seemed to sit a little too close to her. Edward watched as a waitress, looking excited, made her way over to the table with a bottle of champagne and two glasses on her tray. The bounce in her step told of a secret that she kept, and she winked conspiratorially at Bella's companion, where Bella could not see.

He watched, his heart in his mouth, beating wildly with dread and fear. Bella's friend poured the champagne, but slipped something into her glass as he handed it to her. She did not notice.

_No._

He watched as Bella toasted, and then drank, his eyes attuned to her every movement. She reached the end of the glass, and gasped.

_NO!_

Out slipped an oversized ring. And the tall man prised it from her fingers. He was down on one knee, and Edward felt the sudden need to throttle this man until he begged for mercy.

"Isabella Swan," the man's voice was deep and husky. Edward mistrusted it immediately. "I love you. Will you marry me?"

Those lovely eyes filled with joyful tears as she tugged him to his feet and wrapped her slender arms around his neck.

"Yes! Yes, Jake, I will!"

"_Isabella Swan, I promise to love you forever— every single day of forever. Will you marry me?"_

"_Yes."_

_He smiled, elation filling him so completely that he felt like he'd never be negative again._

"_Thank you."_

Her eyes met Edward's and he felt his features contort with pain as the music faded from his fingertips.

Her joyful expression froze.

"_More than my own life."_

Her body went rigid in her new fiancé's embrace.

"_I love you."_

"_You are my life, now."_

A solitary tear ran down her cheek.

"_And so, the lion fell in love with the lamb."_

_She looked away, hiding her eyes as he smiled at her blush. "What a stupid lamb."_

"_What a sick, masochistic lion."_

**TBC.**


End file.
